


nameless thoughts

by thunderylee



Category: Sexy Zone
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-29
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2019-01-15 17:11:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12325320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fuuma publicly stands up to rumors and Kento gets feelings.





	nameless thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck.

Hotel after-parties aren’t that exciting when you’re a minor, regardless of how amusing Kento is when he’s wasted. He’s hardly touched his beer anyway, the three of them exhausted after this particular concert, and not just from physical exertion.

Fuuma may be slow when it comes to things like observing other people’s moods and reading the atmosphere, but he’d have to be a moron not to notice how Kento and Shori keep looking at him like he’d just saved the entire world from the zombie apocalypse.

“It was just a speech,” Fuuma says, forcing a lighthearted laugh even though nothing about this is lighthearted. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s creepy.”

“A speech for the fans or for us?” Shori asks, his jaw set but his eyes soft, and Fuuma’s always thought that one was wise beyond his years, the weight of a middle-aged adult on a teenager’s shoulders.

Fuuma sighs. “I was mad, okay? I don’t like what people say about us. About _them_. It’s not like that. It will never be like that as long as I live and breathe.”

“You can’t control that, Fuuma,” Kento says quietly, the first words he’s spoken since the show ended. “You know we can’t do anything but ask ‘how high?’ when they tell us to jump.”

“Yes, I know, but I don’t have to like it.”

Fuuma knows he’s being stubborn, but he’s only nineteen; he’s allowed to be. Besides, they all know that Kento’s right, and none of them can fight anything that happens to their group, but _someone_ needed to reassure the fans that everything was going to be okay, that the older three weren’t supporting any part of this shitstorm aside from the younger two getting more work.

“We’re not like the other groups,” Fuuma goes on. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know,” Kento says, and now his voice is gentle, reassuring. “Shori, will you please excuse us?”

Shori frowns but nods, a lifetime of being left out of things showing on his face as he exits the room without a word. Fuuma feels sorry for him, but only until he sees Kento’s eyes staring at him so hard that something deep inside Fuuma twitches.

“You shouldn’t exclude him like that,” Fuuma says, not giving a single fuck if Kento doesn’t like hearing that. Kento may be older, but Fuuma’s been doing this just as long, and after today he’s done keeping his mouth shut. “Shori is part of this group too.”

“This isn’t about the group,” Kento replies calmly, not one iota of anger in his voice, and Fuuma blinks as Kento just continues to stare at him with those piercing eyes. “This is about us.”

“Us?” Fuuma repeats. “You and me us?”

“No, you, me, and the plant over there,” Kento answers sarcastically. “Yes, you and me.”

“Do you have a problem with what I said at the concert?” Fuuma asks. “I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry. They needed to hear that. We needed to say that. We can’t just—”

He’s cut off when Kento reaches out with both hands, grabbing his face so firmly that Fuuma just stops talking despite his mouth not blocked at all. Kento’s even closer now, his eyes still wide open and dilated, but now Fuuma sees a thin layer of glaze that makes them shine back at him, and it breaks his heart a little.

“Are you gonna cry?” he asks, understanding absolutely nothing about this entire exchange.

“I want to,” Kento admits.

“Why?”

“Because what you said, it really touched me,” Kento tells him, his hands falling from Fuuma’s face to his shoulders, gripping them like he can transmit his thoughts by force. “Hearing you stand up for us like that, _all_ of us, made me feel a lot of things I’ve never felt before. It’s always me protecting the group, you know? It’s nice not to be standing up alone.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Fuuma says, feeling a little guilty. “I’ll always stand up next to you, Kento. This is my group too. Those are our members. There is nothing that you have to do alone.”

“I just…” Kento trails off, balling his hands into fists on Fuuma’s shoulders, and Fuuma lifts his hands to wrap around both of Kento’s wrists in an attempt to calm him down. “I am so overcome by emotions right now that I don’t know which way is up.”

Fuuma looks up at the ceiling and bites back the obvious answer, returning to Kento’s gaze to find his eyes even more watery. “If you’re gonna cry, get it over with. You know this feelings shit makes me uncomfortable.”

Kento laughs at that, hanging his head for a second, and he’s grinning when he looks at Fuuma again. “This is the absolute worst thing I could ever say to you, but I have never been so ridiculously in love with anyone as I am with you right now.”

The world stops turning. Fuuma stops breathing, Kento stops moving, and the only thing that proves to Fuuma that time didn’t actually stop is the rapid beating of his heart. “What did you just say?”

“You fucking heard me,” Kento says, his voice even but his eyes fierce. He starts to pull away, but Fuuma grabs both of his wrists to keep him right where he is. “I’m not even sorry, because it’s your fault for being so damn perfect that it transcends all logic…and gender.”

Fuuma inhales sharply, his lungs demanding oxygen while his brain feels like it’s short-circuiting. All he can do is stare at Kento incredulously, so shocked and confused and a little flattered that he doesn’t quite know what to do.

“What do you want from me?” he finally asks, his voice merely a breath, and Kento visibly shivers before him.

“I don’t know,” Kento huffs. “I can’t help how I feel. I don’t even know if I’ll still feel this way tomorrow. It was so sudden and so _intense_ that it was all I could do to wait until we alone to tell you.”

“Why did you tell me?” Fuuma asks, upset with himself because he’s not sure he can return Kento’s feelings, not like this. Not with who they are and how they have to live.

“My grandma says you should always tell someone when you love them, even if it’s just for a second,” Kento explains. “It’s such a strong feeling that it shouldn’t be wasted, or something, and having experienced it just now I have to agree.”

Fuuma can’t help but smile; Grandma Nakajima is certainly the type who would say something like that. Kento is a lot like her, more emotional than rational, but Fuuma’s the last person to regulate rationality. It makes him feel good to hear those words from Kento, to be loved so deeply by someone so important to him, just for being himself and speaking his mind.

“Thank you,” Fuuma says, shivering at the goosebumps that form on his arms. “I don’t know what to say, but—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Kento interrupts, offering a small smile as he squeezes Fuuma’s hands before dropping them. “I’m just glad you’re not upset with me.”

“I don’t think I could ever be upset with you,” Fuuma says, then scoffs at Kento’s raised eyebrow. “Seriously, I mean!”

“I’m sure eventually I will do something to piss you off.” Kento grins. “We’re stuck together forever, after all.”

“You, me, and those damn kids,” Fuuma jokes, and Kento laughs. “You can cry if you want.”

“Hmm?” Kento blinks up at Fuuma through his shakes of laughter, but his eyes don’t look that watery anymore. “I’m okay now. It doesn’t hurt as much.”

“I’m sorry it hurt to begin with,” Fuuma says, frowning at the idea of Kento being in any kind of pain. “Come here.”

Kento starts to blink again, but Fuuma’s already latched onto his arm and yanked. It’s much easier to hug Kento than to sit here and talk about their feelings, especially when Kento loops his arms around Fuuma’s back and presses his face into Fuuma’s shoulder like he really was going to cry.

“This feels nice,” Kento murmurs, with no trace of a sob. “Can we stay like this for a while?”

“Yeah,” Fuuma says, squeezing Kento tighter as he tries to understand his own reaction, this impulse to be close to Kento. It’s not just about comfort or protection, because he definitely wouldn’t cling to Shori like this, and it’s that comparison that has his eyes opening to the possibility of returning Kento’s feelings after all.

Kento looks disappointed when Fuuma pulls away, but his eyes widen when Fuuma leans their foreheads together and lifts a hand to touch his face. Despite the smooth skin, there’s a tiny prickle of facial hair along his jawline, a blatant reminder of Kento’s masculinity that has Fuuma’s blood rushing through his veins even more.

“I wanna kiss you,” he blurts out, and Kento’s breath hitches. “I don’t know why or if it will even mean anything, I just want to.”

“It’s okay with me,” Kento says quietly, his hands lifting to wrap around Fuuma’s neck. “Anything you want to do is okay with me.”

Fuuma’s eyebrows are still raised when Kento tilts his head, barely brushing their lips together, but then it’s Fuuma who leans in and seals the deal. Even if he had thought about kissing another man before this morning, which he hasn’t, at least not very seriously, anything he might have expected wouldn’t hold a candle to how this feels. Kento’s mouth moves against his, fingers playing with the small chain on the back of Fuuma’s neck, the small touch strong enough to make Fuuma wrap his arms around Kento’s body, pulling him closer.

Kento gasps as Fuuma deepens the kiss, having nobody to blame but himself. He likes this, likes the way it feels to have Kento’s lips against his and chase Kento’s tongue around his mouth. He likes embracing Kento and being embraced in return, because Kento is nothing like any girl Fuuma’s ever kissed before, the exact opposite of passive.

He’s so into it that he doesn’t notice he’s moving, going from vertical to horizontal with a firm weight pressing him down. “Kento,” he gets out, a little surprised and confused and really, really turned on by Kento’s sudden dominance.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Kento rasps, rushing to push himself up onto his elbows. “I was lost in the moment, and—”

“Don’t,” Fuuma cuts him off, grabbing onto both of Kento’s arms with all of his strength to keep the older man from moving any further away. “I like it, so don’t stop.”

“You…” Kento stares at him in a way Fuuma can’t decipher. “Are you sure?”

“It’s the only thing I’m sure of right now,” Fuuma says without thinking, watching how Kento’s eyes dilate at the words. “I can’t promise you forever, but I can give you right now, because it feels right and I don’t want to think too much about it.”

Kento gives him that look again, then nods. “Okay. Okay.”

It’s Fuuma who pulls him back, shifting as Kento’s weight comes crashing down onto him again, no holding back. Legs entwine and mouths collide, this kiss much more intense than the first as Kento’s hands slide up and down Fuuma’s sides like he’s mapping out the path he wants to take once he can touch Fuuma’s skin directly.

“This is so exciting,” Kento whispers between kisses, his lips pressing down Fuuma’s chin as Fuuma tilts his head back to breathe. “I don’t know why, but it is.”

“I understand,” Fuuma agrees, his own hands squeezing the muscles of Kento’s back as his body starts to roll beneath him. “Have you done this before?”

“Yes,” Kento answers with no hesitation. “You?”

“Not with a man,” Fuuma admits, feeling like an inexperienced virgin for the first time in a long while. “It’s okay if it’s you, though. I’m not scared.”

“Good.” Kento’s fingers curl along the hem of Fuuma’s shirt, slowly edging it up. “Can I take this off?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Fuuma hisses, more impatient than he’d intended, and he starts to apologize when he hears Kento chuckle. “Don’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Kento tells him, pressing the words into his throat. He lets up just long enough to push Fuuma’s shirt over his head, then those lips return to continue down past his collarbone. “If you want to set any boundaries, now is a good time.”

“Like what?” Fuuma asks, a hint of spite surfacing in his voice. “Do you want to tie me up or something?”

“You wish,” Kento replies, just as spiteful, and Fuuma feels even better about this with how light and comfortable the atmosphere is. “If I tied you up, you wouldn’t have to touch me.”

“Is that a hint?” Fuuma asks, dropping his hands to Kento’s waist to grab onto his hips. “I told you, I’m not scared. You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.”

“Yeah, but you haven’t _felt_ it before,” Kento replies, and he has a point when he grinds down hard enough for Fuuma to become very aware of Kento’s erection digging into his thigh. Kento gives him a knowing look, which has Fuuma just reaching down to squeeze the bulge in Kento’s pants, taking satisfaction in the way Kento’s stare grows wider.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know what to do with it,” Fuuma says, proving his point by rubbing Kento firmly, twisting his wrist just enough to have Kento’s eyes rolling back into his head. “You were saying?”

“We should have done this a long time ago,” Kento whispers, leaning up to press their mouths together as he rocks his hips toward Fuuma’s hand. “I want you, Fuuma.”

“Want you too,” Fuuma mumbles, his own body rocking as he finds friction on Kento’s own thigh. He’s just as hard as Kento, if not more, what’s left of his inhibitions fading into nothing but arousal and Kento—his weight, his scent, his voice, all the ways Kento is touching him, everything.

They kiss hungrily as Kento seems to notice Fuuma’s similar state and has no reservations unfastening Fuuma’s pants to reach inside. Fuuma’s breath hitches, but he just kisses Kento more deeply as they touch each other and gradually lose their clothes.

“How do you want to do this?” Kento asks gently, falling out of their kiss to go back to Fuuma’s throat. Fuuma _really_ likes that, arching under Kento’s mouth that makes its way down to Fuuma’s chest. “I like both ways, so it’s up to you.”

“I want you right where you are,” Fuuma tells him, emphasizing his point by thrusting upward. Kento gasps as he spreads his legs, straddling Fuuma just as pointedly. “Yeah, like that.”

“Funny, I always thought you’d be the one riding,” Kento says, and Fuuma raises an eyebrow. “What? With the way you move, you can hardly blame me.”

“I bet you can move just as good,” Fuuma comments, and Kento’s own eyebrows rise at the challenge. “Show me what to do, _senpai_.”

Kento scoffs at the name, but reaches for something he’d retrieved from his pants before kicking them off and leans down to whisper instructions into Fuuma’s ear. Fuuma arches at the hot breath tickling his ear canal, words that turn filthy as Fuuma does everything Kento says and presses fingers inside him, one after the other.

Kento’s appreciative noises are just as filthy, driving Fuuma crazy with need as his cock twitches with each squeeze Kento’s body makes around his fingers. He finds a spot that has Kento groaning out loud and stays right there, applying pressure until Kento’s physically shaking on top of him.

“Fuck, Fuuma, _now_ ,” Kento hisses, leaning back enough for Fuuma to see his face, skin flushed and eyes glossy in a much different way now.

“Yes, fuck Fuuma now,” Fuuma teases, and Kento rolls his eyes as he sits up straight. Fuuma gives one last prod to that spot, enjoying how Kento gasps and throws his head back, then pulls his fingers out completely and waits for Kento to proceed.

Kento lifts his head back up and gives Fuuma that stare again, the one he can’t quite read, but then those hands are on his cock. Kento shifts as he guides it in, both of them groaning at the pressure, and Fuuma’s eyes are locked on Kento’s face as he bottoms out and feels Kento all around him, muscles gradually getting used to the intrusion.

“You look…” Fuuma starts, then stops because ‘beautiful’ doesn’t sound like the right word to use, even if it’s how he feels watching Kento’s mouth slowly part while his eyes fall shut. His hair is all in his face and already starting to dampen from sweat, which continues down his body and makes his skin shine, and all Fuuma can think is how good it looks and how much it complements what he physically feels.

Kento doesn’t seem to be listening anyway, taking a few deep breaths that end up staggered before he starts to move, rocking his hips in a way he’s never done on stage to take Fuuma’s length in and out at his own pace. It’s both mesmerizing to watch and incredible to feel, leaving Fuuma helpless to stay at Kento’s speed despite his own hips pushing up to go deeper.

“Yeah, like that,” Kento whispers, and Fuuma almost misses it buried under his own noises that he can’t hold back. “This feels so good, Fuuma.”

“Yeah, it does,” Fuuma agrees, wondering if Kento is referring to the same feeling that Fuuma himself has, which isn’t just sexual. It’s something brand new to Fuuma, only applying to Kento, and he would think about it further if he wasn’t wholly focused on enjoying it, riding out the waves of pleasure while Kento rides _him_.

Kento gasps and falls forward, Fuuma adjusting automatically by bending his knees and thrusting up from below as Kento crashes their mouths together. It’s a desperate kiss of heat and tongues and Fuuma’s mind slowly fades to nothing, his whole focus on the pair of them and the inexplicable feelings they’re making together. Kento’s fingers gently encircle his wrist and pull it down between their bodies, crying out into Fuuma’s mouth when Fuuma touches something wet, and by the time his brain catches up he’s already curled his hand around Kento’s cock and pumping it in time to their efforts.

“Gonna come,” Kento hisses, burying his face into Fuuma’s neck as he moans and spills over Fuuma’s fingers. He tightens so much around Fuuma that he’s pushed over the edge as well, a combination of Kento’s noises and clinging getting him off just as much as the actual sex.

It takes them a while to move, the muscle strain and inevitable mess finally forcing Kento to roll off of him with an exhausted groan. He also cringes, which has Fuuma springing into comfort mode—this much he knows how to do, anyway. Rubbing Kento’s undoubtedly sore thighs has the older man almost purring in his arms, curling up toward him in some semblance of a cuddle that doesn’t feel as forced as it normally does.

“You know,” Fuuma says conversationally, and Kento makes a small noise of acknowledgement. “If you still loved me tomorrow, that would be okay.”

Kento scoffs. “We’ll see.”

Fuuma shoves at him playfully, making him squeal in a mixture of laughter and pain from the sudden movement, and Fuuma finds himself laughing as well.

“Like you said, we’re stuck together forever,” Fuuma recounts. “Whether you love me or not.”

“When you put it that way…” Kento says, trailing off with a sigh. “Just keep protecting us and I’ll keep falling in love with you. Deal?”

“Deal,” Fuuma agrees easily, because protecting his group is as natural as breathing.


End file.
